


Incoherent

by WisdomState (TheWalkingSwen)



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Caryl, F/M, Tumblr drabbles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:36:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 19,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3172754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWalkingSwen/pseuds/WisdomState
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A set of incoherent chapters done as requests for some very lovely people. Spoilers up to 03.16 within, and rated T for language. Caryl for the most part. (Includes various characters throughout.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. So Much Better

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Over the years (original posting of Incoherent was in 2012), I've received an unbelievable amount of support from Carylers on Tumblr, and they've made me realize that I've already written quite a few of these request-fics - so I thought I'd do a kind of a masterpost/compilation of them. I believe this first one was requested by theloveofcarylandtwd - and the prompt was that Carol went to Woodbury with the group, and was captured as well as Daryl.
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: The Walking Dead and affiliated actors, ideas and characters are not mine, sadly. They belong to Frank Darabont, AMC and their team of supers.

* * *

So Much Better

 

 

The room was dark around her as eyes adjusted.

A ringing sensation filled her ears and head as the objects nearest her came into focus; the floor, first and foremost, was pressed cold against her cheek. Pieces of a broken table and a bloody -

Carol's eyes shot open.

A walker had been killed there, laying dismembered on the ground not four feet away from her. Its face was a mess - and she upon realizing that it could do her no damage, she tried to move to see the rest of the room. As she sat up, her vision swam. There was something wet on the side of her face, and she looked at the cement floor where she had just been, darkened with her blood. Pursing her lips, she tried to will the pain and dizziness away, and attempted to remember what had happened. The group of them had gone to Woodbury to retrieve Glenn and Maggie - the couple thankfully alive, though damaged. And then there was a shootout - in the town itself, it all came back to her in gunshots and smoke bombs.

She felt sick.

The memory of feeling someone's strong arms around her midsection flew back to her then, and a hand over her mouth with a cloth - smelling of something acrid, and then she lost consciousness with a sharp pain that exploded in her temple.

Captured.

The understanding of it hit her like the wave of nausea that passed over her again as she tried to stand up.

No dice.

Her feet weren't bound like her hands, but her whole body felt weak. There was no way to know how long she had been there - the room had no visible windows and the only light that entered was from a dim light that was flickering in a wire cage above the broken table. Still, Carol gritted her teeth and groaned, standing up with the wall next to her as support. The dark room was now much more clear, and she saw the walker's remains strewn about the room, with a curiously mangled arm about four feet away. It occurred to her that this was where Maggie and Glenn had been kept, and if this was where they were and escaped from - she could do the same.

Breathing deeply, the ringing ebbed, and though she still had a massive headache, Carol's thoughts turned to survival, and how the Hell she was going to get out of here.

_What if everyone else had gone?_

They had only come for Maggie and Glenn - what if the rest of them had gotten away safely? The idea struck a fear into her that chilled her down to the bone. A fear that she had only felt before under the stare of her late husband's beady eyes. She was alone.

They left her because she did nothing for the group - she was spare to them.

Her thoughts turned to Judith for a moment, but the whole reason she felt comfortable coming to Woodbury was because Beth seemed so capable. And with Hershel and Carl still at the prison - the baby would be absolutely fine without her. And Rick, and the rest of them... had they noticed she was gone?

_Daryl_?

Daryl's face swam into her vision for a moment before disappearing, leaving a very empty, tight feeling in her chest.

Wouldn't he come back for me? She thought, remembering that he had saved her twice already now - and she would have done the same for him.

_If it had been Daryl caught in the first place..._  She realized, making her way to the boarded up door. _I would have been the first one to come back._

But she didn't know anything about how he felt. She knew he cared, sure. He cared about the group. He was Rick's right-hand man for God's sake. Would he have come back for her?

Her chaotic thoughts combined with the pain her her body distracted her from the multiple footfalls coming from outside the door, increasing in tempo until they became loud enough to bore into her eardrums and consciousness.

Carol's eyes widened as she heard them, and tried to back away and hide before anyone could enter. She backed up into the broken table, and without her usual stability, went crashing to the ground in a heap of splintered wood. She whimpered, shaking with fear as the last board was pulled away, and the door nearly torn off its hinge with the force of being pulled open so violently.

 

...

 

The crowd roared around them.

Daryl couldn't look away from Merle, who looked dejected and powerful - he had seen that look a million times before - as the men paced in small circles around one another.

There were calls for fights, death, walkers, and many other things the younger Dixon brother didn't care to make out.

Merle's thin lips pulled further down, and Daryl felt a shred of boyhood come back to him as he felt like shrinking away from the older man. "Still alive." He growled, barely audible over the jeers and calls that seemed to grow louder as they paced.

Dimly aware of Andrea somewhere in the crowd, Daryl chewed his lip before answering "Yeah. You too."

If the situation weren't so dire for both of them, Daryl was certain that Merle would have resorted to insults and battery for having left him on that Godforsaken rooftop - as it was, their exchange was as far as the brothers got. The crowd quieted around them suddenly, and the man responsible for all this, the Governor, said "They've decided. It's the ring."

The crowd exploded with cheers, and Daryl knew that whatever was going to happen, it wasn't gonna be good.

All at once, there was another commotion as a flash of blonde hair came between him and Merle, pulling on his arm.

Andrea.

There was a gun in her hand.

She had it pointed at the Governor - who looked almost hurt, with his one eye looking at her in disbelief.

It was a blur, Merle suddenly behind him as his legs ran with him, past the crowd that began a chase, and past the tall man that seemed stunned in light of Andrea's sudden rescue.

"-tha fuck are you-" He began to say as they burst down a corridor, doors closing behind them and funneling out the followers.

"Shut up!" Andrea huffed as she ran, still clutching his wrist even though he was beginning to pass her. "We're getting out of here."

_Sounds good._ Daryl thought as they turned another corner, less and less people now following them. Andrea knew this place pretty well, he realized. The two ducked into an old meat locker at one point, staying absolutely silent as they heard footfalls and voices outside that eventually passed on.

"What the Hell were you doing here anyway?" She whispered after a moment. "The lot of you just find us and decide to raid the town?"

Daryl scoffed. "Are you kiddin'? That bastard had Maggie and Glenn all beat to shit for days up in here." He clenched his fists. He knew Merle had been the one to do it all, but he couldn't blame him for it. Not after leaving him to die. Andrea paled. "Glenn?" Her face spoke volumes. Even Daryl could see her disbelieving, shocked expression that spoke of something more than just surprise.  _Betrayal_? Maybe.

More voices outside, and they listened carefully. It was the Governor.

"-you tell the rest of 'em to look for Andrea. They can't have gotten too far out of town."

"Should we check the interrogation room?" Came another gruff voice.

"No, they don't know we have the old bitch. We'll deal with her after we find Daryl."

_Old bitch._

Daryl's blood boiled.

They had Carol.

They had her, and they almost left without her.

Andrea saw the turmoil in his face and put a hand over his mouth right before he was about to curse. She shook her head vigorously and he breathed out his rage. No, it was still there. Fuck, it burned. That Governor had called Carol an old bitch - and they had caught her.

_I'mma kill that bastard someday._ He promised himself.

Andrea opened the door a minute after the men had passed, peeking out to check if the coast was clear. Wordlessly, she looked back at him and slipped out quietly. He followed, but couldn't resist asking "Where we goin'?"

She looked at him incredulously.

"Getting you the Hell out of here."

He should have asked why she said you and not us, but the only thing on his mind was finding Carol. The only woman he had ever been close with. The only friend he ever remembered having. Even more so than Rick - there was always an element of respect between the men when they spoke, but Carol was the person whose smile he saw light in. In whose eyes he found warmth. His heart clenched at the thought of her being alone again, in some locker somewhere, unable to speak for exhaustion, unable to walk. And there would be no one to find her and carry her home.

_Fuck that._

"I ain't leavin' without Carol." He said.

Andrea slowed, looking back at him. "What?"

"Bastard said 'old bitch'. She was the only woman with us, 'sides that sword lady."

It was Andrea's turn to clench her fists. Michonne. She remembered the look that passed between them just after the warrior-woman had ruined the Governor's eye. She remembered feeling so relieved in that first second, to see her again, before she realized what had happened.

And then she saw the look on Daryl's face.

His mouth was a thin line, and in his cold blue eyes there was something she had never seen in him - a fire, some kind of passion, and a determination that told her that no, he sure as Hell wasn't leaving without Carol.

"Tha' guy said somethin' about an interrogation room or whatever..." Daryl said quietly.

Andrea nodded. "I don't know but... Well, I can think of a few places they might have put her."

That was all Daryl needed to keep going. For almost a half hour they dodged armed men and women, searching for the both of them, looking into all the abandoned places in the town that Andrea could find. Until they came across a dank hallway with dim lighting and a boarded up door.

Andrea walked closer, and put her ear against it.

Shallow breathing. But it was even - not a walker.

She nodded, and Daryl all but ran toward the door, his large boots making crashing footfalls as he began peeling back at the wooden boards with his bare hands.

_Carol..._

The last of the boards came away, and Andrea stepped back just in time as Daryl wrenched open the door so hard it came off its hinges.

 

...

 

Carol sat on the floor, in a pile of bloody pieces of wood, looking up at the man who had pulled open the door. She couldn't help but release a whimper, both from the pain and from the fear that ran through her veins, before her eyes slid into focus and -

 

_Daryl_.

 

She must have been dreaming. She had to be; Daryl Dixon was here to rescue her yet again.

How did he even know she was here?

Her mind raced as the man entered the room without hesitation, and knelt down in front of her, hand turning her face to his under her chin. _Just like before._

"Is she alright?" A female voice came from behind Daryl, pulling them both out of a look that could only have been described by both parties as electric. Carol looked past the man hunched before her and saw a familiar, blonde woman at the door.

"Andrea?" She said in disbelief.

"You okay?" She asked again.

Nodding, Carol tried to get up and winced. "Here, lemme'..." Daryl muttered, wasting no time in dragging her arm around his shoulder and pulling her to her feet. He steadied her with a hand at her waist and he felt his chest tighten again. _She's alive. Thank fuck_ , he thought. They made their way to the door, and Carol said "Good to see you." with a smile to Andrea as she passed.

"You too." Andrea said slowly, watching the way Daryl kept his hands on the silver-haired woman at all times, even after it became clear that Carol was strong enough to walk.

Carol noticed it too, but did nothing besides smile to herself as the three of them wove their way upstairs to the back of the building, close to where Daryl and the group had first come in.

Andrea looked at them squarely. "Go. Warn your people. My advice - run. You don't wanna be around when the Governor gets to wherever you guys are staying."

"Andrea but - what about you?" Carol countered immediately.

"I have to stay. I'll do what I can from here." And from the look on her face, Daryl could see that nothing was going to convince her otherwise and he nodded.

Glancing over at Carol, who had tightened her lips into a thin line. She looked back, and nodded slowly.

"Good luck." Carol said as Andrea checked outside to make sure there were no guards. She gave them the thumbs up, and the two captives made their way to the tree line in the dark, holding on to one another.

They ran for twenty minutes, silent, wordless, and wary of the pitch black world around them. They had removed all of Daryl's weapons, but for a small knife they hadn't found in his pants pocket and a flashlight that he kept at the hem of his pants at all times. It had saved them from being seen twice that night in the woods already. Perfectly content to be away from Woodbury, Carol finally slowed her pace and admitted that she needed a rest.

"'course you do." Daryl said after a moment, seeing how out-of-breath the woman was.

In the low light of the moon above them, and the small flashlight in his hand that he kept turned off when they weren't moving, he could still make out the sparkle in her eyes that never failed to cheer him. She smiled. His heart felt like it would melt.

"I s'pose I owe you about three times over now, for saving me." Carol said quietly, sitting up against a tree trunk.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably. "Ain't nothin'."

Carol smirked, and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "My life is nothin', is it?" She teased.

He frowned. "Wasn't what I meant, an' you know it."

The dry but honest laugh that bubbled out of her then caused him to look down at his feet nervously. God, why did she have to be  _so_ \- And then he stilled, for she had stood up, and her hands were now resting on his chest.

His eyes darted up to hers instinctively, and he tried to back away from the sudden touch. She wouldn't let him.

"I know that." She said, looking at him straight on. "And I said thank you Daryl."

"Oka-" He began to say, shrugging up his shoulders, when he was interrupted by her lips on his.

_Holy shit - Goddamn... everything._

He didn't have the presence of mind to back away again. He didn't have the presence of mind to do anything but stiffen up at her impossibly soft mouth pressed against his own. He felt her breathe in. He felt her quiver slightly as she kissed him a little harder, and her fingers gently curled into the fabric of his shirt.

It was unlike anything he'd ever felt.

And it was over all too soon. Carol pulled away with such a  _Goddamn smirk_ on those damn lips of hers.

Daryl couldn't help but say "Wha' the Hell was that for?"

And as Carol took his hand rather delicately in hers, and began walking again, she said "For saving my life.".

Daryl decided that if he had saved her what, three times, he was owed at least two more kisses. But he thought better of bringing it up, as they were a day's walk away from the prison with a fuck ton of walkers between them. But the fact that she led him through the woods, a stupid grin on her face, and holding his hand like he was some runny-nosed kid made it all seem so much better.

_So much better._

 


	2. Gunpowder and Lead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Miranda Lambert's 'Gunpowder and Lead' - a little backstory between Carol and Ed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This ask was sent in by peaceloveunityrespectcalamity on tumblr. Prompt: Gunpowder and Lead by Miranda Lambert - backstory on Carol and Ed.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own in any part the characters or ideas in The Walking Dead - Frank Darabont does all that marvelous stuff.
> 
> WARNING: Mild trigger warnings for physical violence/domestic abuse, and mention of sexual assault.

* * *

Gunpowder and Lead

 

For the third time that day she collapsed in a heap on the bathroom floor, her ribs singing from the fresh bruises and the welt on her eye that was just beginning to swell. A sob threatened to escape her lips but she swallowed it, along with the string of pathetic curses she wished she could scream at the top of her lungs.

But then, Sophia would hear. Ed would hear.

It seemed to get him all excited when he heard her cry like that, so she forced herself to stay silent, no matter how much it hurt.

Pissed him off too, that she didn't scream for him the way she wanted.

_It's the least I could do._

That very same thought crossed her mind every time Ed raised a hand against her, or forced himself on her in the middle of the night, and every time she saw him looking at their beautiful little girl with an unholy hunger in his eyes. It was the same thought that passed over her, like a mantra, as she nursed herself back to health, on her own every time.

Her bathroom mirror had seen more of her blood than most doctors would see in their first two years of medical school, and at this point, she was a master of making it all seem like she was just a clumsy housewife who liked wearing loose-fitting shirts that didn't show off too much skin.

It didn't make her any less angry, every time she felt the hot sting of Ed's hand across her face. Or his knee in her ribs. Or his-

Carol's train of thought was interrupted by a soft voice at the door.

"M-mom, are you okay?" It was Sophia.

Dear, darling Sophia - the only reason Carol hadn't taken the easy way out after the first few times Ed had beaten her. It was because she threatened to leave. She remembered it well.

_Found out I was pregnant that day, was gonna walk out and then I opened my stupid mouth -_  she thought bitterly, pulling herself up off the floor with a grimace. The beatings came for the leaving. The beatings came for being pregnant and not telling him. And then Sophia was born - and they just kept coming.

"I'm fine Sophia." She said loudly, intending for Ed to hear as well - wherever he had sulked off to in his rage.

"Are you sure?" She asked hesitantly. Carol could practically see her daughter's worried face from behind the door.

"Yes honey, I'll be out in a few minutes."

The pitter-patter of feet told Carol that Sophia had gone elsewhere, probably back to her homework.  _Thank God_. She thought, before standing in front of the mirror to assess the damage.

_Bastard_.

The first angry word that surfaced as she saw the shining mark on her cheekbone that was turning a lovely shade of purple. That one she couldn't cover up with makeup.

Standing there at the mirror, dressing her wounds, Carol thought of all the times she had thought about taking that rifle Ed kept in their bedroom closet and putting it to his head. Pulling the trigger at the very moment his eyes locked on hers and she saw that fear in him. Same fear he instilled in her the moment she said "I do."

Ten minutes later, she was out and made up the best she could be - makeup covering most of the bruising and a new shirt that didn't have shards of glass or beer stains on it from the broken bottle that had made contact there.

"CAROL!"

A vein in her neck twitched. _Can't even wait fifteen minutes._

"CAROL!" Ed yelled again, this time louder.

She walked upstairs to the bedroom, but stayed outside the door. "Yeah?" She replied quietly.

"Make me somethin' to eat." Was the demand. She heard the TV going - sounded like a game was on.

"What would you like?" Carol asked, knowing the answer.

"Whatever the fuck's down there. An' a beer." Ed said gruffly.

_Whatever the fuck's down there._  That summed Ed up pretty well, Carol thought, before nodding to herself and walking back downstairs to the kitchen.

As she worked, she knew the answer was always going to be the same - whatever and another beer - but if she didn't ask, she'd get the hand. Not being a considerate wife, Ed had said. He didn't so much care what he ate as long as it was always  _his_  idea.

And so, she kissed Sophia on the forehead as she passed her by on the couch, and brought up a tray of food to her husband.

 

...

 

The walkers had come out of nowhere. And they had taken their old Jeep Cherokee to escape the onslaught of neighbors that had tried to break in when the plague or, whatever it was, hit.

Sophia ran into their room screaming, and by the time they got up and realized what was going on, all of the people nearby had turned or were being killed. Ed's immediate reaction was to run, and for once, Carol didn't think it was such a bad idea. Grabbing Sophia and all the supplies she could, while Ed took the guns and (of course) the beer, they made their way out to the car and drove. Sophia had stayed in her mother's arms the whole time, cradled against her and breathing shakily into her neck. Soon enough they ran into a couple, well, who said they weren't a couple; Shane and Lori, who Carol immediately liked. They seemed smarter than all the other folks, running around with their heads cut off in the wake of the outbreak.

Carol offered them some of their supplies in thanks, after establishing that they were welcome to stay and form a group.

Ed hadn't liked that.

In the tent, he had given her a harsh beating. One that left more than one mark on her cheek, and more bruises on her arms.

"The Hell are you doin', offerin' my supplies to them?" He yelled, striking her again.

Carol fought back a whimper and said nothing.

"I said, the Hell did you think you were doin'!?" Another blow, this one sending her a foot backwards and she could no longer hold back a sob.

"I'm sorry," she cried. "They're good people and they're gonna help us."

"My rules, Carol. MY food, and MY rules!" He yelled again, and she recoiled from him as he shuffled closer. She nodded gravely, looking down at the blankets beneath them.

She couldn't meet his eyes. Not this time. Because she had cried.

She made noises, let him know he hurt her more, and let him know that he was still the boss. Carol was powerless against him, she had no way of fighting back and he knew it. She hated herself for it. Her eyes fell on the bag in the corner of the tent she knew held that same shotgun she dreamed about using.

_It's the least I could do._

Before she realized what had happened, Ed was no longer in the tent and stomping off toward the rest of the group. Carol sunk down on her knees and shuddered, her eyes darting back to that bag.

_It would be so simple._

It would mean that she wouldn't have to hear him yell anymore. No more enduring those hits. No more worrying about Sophia alone with him. No more being shaken like a leaf, a doll, and told you're nothing compared to someone else.

He had her believing it.

 

...

 

The sound the axe made as she plunged it into the putrid, half-stripped face of her husband was sweeter than the shot of any rifle. No gunpowder spray could have made her feel more powerful, more alive, in that moment. It was as though lead coursed through her veins instead of blood, supplying her with the courage to stop Daryl Dixon from doing what she did - making sure the bastard didn't get up again.

And again.

She thrust the axe into the pulpy mess of a skull that used to be her husband once more. And finally, the tears came. They came because of what she had done. The tears came because it wasn't the first time she had thought of killing that sorry excuse for a man.

The tears came because she was so scared of the world without him in it -without him to rule her, tell her what to do - it was all she knew for the last ten years.

But all in all, when her shaking shoulders finally relaxed and she felt her daughter's arms around her, she knew that it had been the least she could do.

 


	3. The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This last-post-of-the-night was sent in by bullettimescully, requesting a not-too-fluffy Christmas fic with some appropriate Daryl-awkwardness. I hoped that I had done the job well - I'm not sure I've ever written awkward before. Takes place before the events of 3.07-3.08
> 
> Disclaimer: Frank Darabont and his team of supers (AMC) are the only people who can lay claim to The Walking Dead.

* * *

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

 

Merle had never been one for Christmases. After their father had left, followed closely by the death of their mother, Merle's way was the only way. He told Daryl once, when they were children, that if Daryl wanted to celebrate giving presents, that he should give Merle "a new car or some porn mags and shut the Hell up for long enough to enjoy 'em".

So it came as a surprise when the group decided to do Christmas that year.

Daryl thought it a stupid idea from the beginning - Christmas in a prison? Wasn't that just cheery as Hell. Never mind the dead walking outside and the lack of snow and presents and all the stuff that made Christmas... Christmas.

Daryl felt he had to get away from the rest of them, shamelessly revelling in memories from Christmases past. He sulked in the watch tower, and had been doing so for hours when he hears gentle footfalls coming up the stairs.

"Had enough?" He asked without looking.

Carol chuckled and sat down next to him, realizing as soon as she lost sight of the property behind the railings that he wasn't there to be on watch, so much as to be alone. "Well I figured you'd been up here long enough by yourself - go on down. I'll take over." She smiled at him, and he shifted uncomfortably. His eyes went from hers, to her lips, and down to the cement between them.

"I'm alright." He said.

She raised an eyebrow. "What's this? Daryl Dixon, the Grinch?"

He looked at her as though she was the undead. "Wha-" He said questioningly. It struck Carol then that her reference had flown by the wayside. She looked at him a little incredulously. "You've never heard about the Grinch?"

His silence spoke volumes.

Carol opened her mouth, and then closed it again. It took her a minute to formulate the right words to explain such a character to a grown man. "Well. It's a kid's story about this person who hates Christmas. Hates it so much he dresses up as Santa Clause and takes every present in town." Daryl nodded along, watching her out of the corner of his eye.

"Of course he wises up in the end. The true meanin' of Christmas and all that." She chuckled again, and the man beside her couldn't help but notice how lovely the noise was over the constant, dull gurgling of the few walkers outside the fence.

"True meanin' huh?" He scoffed, though there was a hint of something in the statement that made Carol look at him squarely in the face.

"Y'know like," she started tentatively, testing to see if he'd stop her. When he didn't, she kept going. "The birth of Jesus Christ, savin' the poor and then spendin' time with your loved ones -" She stopped herself just then, as Daryl's eyes flicked away from her and bored a hole into the concrete corner opposite him. Biting her lip, she realized that she had struck a nerve.

"Daryl?" She asked softly. He didn't turn.

Christmas wasn't a thing to him. Besides, with Merle gone, he didn't have anybody. He wasn't even sure he _loved_  Merle - they were just all each other had for so long. As though she sensed it, Carol bravely put a hand on top of Daryl's - at which he stiffened and recoiled slightly. "Y'know, we're family now." She said when he didn't pull away enough to get away from her. Still, as the words rolled off her lips she realized how that sounded -  _we're family now_  - and immediately regretted it. "All of us. You, me, Rick, Judith and Hershall..." She tried to correct herself. She hadn't meant only the two of them.

Well, she had.

But he didn't need to know that.

Daryl's silence weighed heavy, though his breathing was the only noise Carol focused on.

After a few minutes more of silence, Carol strained to hear the only words he said, barely above a whisper: "Yeah, whatever."

Sighing, Carol removed her hand from his and stood up.

"I'm goin' back down. You could come too, y'know, if you wanted." She said, putting a hand into the back pocket of her jeans.

Daryl didn't look up again as he nodded. "I know."

"That's what it's all about, Daryl." Carol added as she walked down the first few steps. "Spending time with the people who love you."

_The people who love you._

Daryl replayed the words a few times in his mind before swearing, and standing up. He picked up the crossbow next to him and immediately layed out a walker that had been bothering him all day. It had been bothering him all day right?

It wasn't just this Christmas thing, pissing him off?

It wasn't just Carol, coming up with her stories and that laugh?

Whatever it was, he remembered something that Merle said to him often as kids, and then again as adults. "Ain't no one gonna love you, boy. No one ever. Not like me." And those words fought against those of the soft-spoken Carol Peletier, a woman who had lost more than most people, and still found a way to get stronger every time something bad happened. She seemed to care about him.

But what did he know about love?

_Nothing._

After he saw his arrow sink into the eye socket of another walker, he cursed himself for being so damn inept with people, and headed down the stairs and back into the cells. He heard Beth singing softly in that sweet voice of hers, and the laughter of a new baby echoing toward him as he walked.

_"Ain't no one gonna love you, boy."_

Merle's words echoed again, but they began to fade out as the group's noises grew louder.

_"No one ever."_

Carol's face swam before his eyes, though he shook it faster than you could spit.

_"Not like me._ "

No one in their group was like Merle. Not one. And maybe that was why he was still alive. Maybe that was why Christmas was such a big deal to them. They were alive and together.

That didn't sound so bad at all.

 


	4. Alright

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, places, or concepts of The Walking Dead, I merely make stories out of them. They belong to other, important persons.
> 
> A/N: This was based on a prompt I found on tumblr (and regrettably no longer remember who it came from), about Carol and Daryl getting intimate for the first time, and Daryl finding a tattoo somewhere on her body.
> 
> I think the prompt was meant to be sexy. I don't think sexy is their style - at least not at the time (read: 2012). I hope y'all enjoy it. (And if anybody knows who prompted this, PLEASE tell me!)

* * *

Alright

 

His mind was racing.

Carol's lips had somehow found his, and were amazingly, still pressed against them even moments later. Her fingers curled around the collar of his shirt, and though his initial impulse had been to tear himself away from the contact, he quickly realized that this wasn't the kind that would hurt.

Merle had taught him that touch was something that was usually earned, and the kind of touching he was used to caused more pain than anything else.

But this time it was gentle.

So gentle, and so _goddamn_  good.

Once Carol realized that he wasn't going to push her away - or run, like she had expected him to - she pulled herself closer to him, locking her hands in his shirt. He felt like nothing she'd ever known before.

Daryl Dixon was the hunter of the group. He was wild, untamed, and explosive. He was the one everyone looked up to when Rick was unstable - and the unfortunate reality of the situation was that Rick became more and more unstable by the day. But not Daryl. He was reliable, caring in his own way, and always seeking approval of those who mattered to him.

A man of honour.

Carol wanted him to realize that more than anything; it certainly hadn't been her intention to rise up on her toes, and kiss the man as he was staring at her intently with those clear blue eyes of his.

Daryl's thoughts were garbled; after the initial shock of the sudden touch of her soft lips wore off, he became uncomfortable for lack of knowing what to do from there. Running away seemed like a really good idea, especially since he was sure Carol would forgive him - but he actually  _wanted_  this.

He had been wanting it for some time - he just hadn't realized until the moment he noticed how her lips felt on his.

His hands balled into nervous fists as Carol kissed him harder, though somehow still gently.

Daryl marveled at the way her body was now pressed against him, her arms were draped over his shoulders - when did _that_  happen? And he could feel her melting, almost, into him. Every curve and bone on her body now known to his.

It sent a heat rushing through his veins, and a low moan escaped his lips - completely unbeknownst to him.

Carol, noticed.

She took it as encouragement, just as much as she had done when he didn't pull away. Carol slowly smiled into his lips, and made a small noise of questioning before breaking the kiss. "You okay?" She asked, looking up into his eyes. Her face stayed close to his, just pleased to have made physical contact with the ever-elusive Daryl Dixon, but very intent on finding out exactly what he wanted, and how he wanted it.

Daryl however, was so much more than okay.

He was only aware of how good it all felt, and when she pulled away to ask him that question he had no answer to give her. He looked into her eyes silently, curiously, with a hint of fear that broke Carol's heart as she saw it beneath his calm exterior.

_How long has it been, for him?_   She wondered.

Then again, it had been some time for her too, and even longer since she had enjoyed it. But whatever their little tryst brought them that day, she decided, it was going to be good for both of them. Didn't they deserve affection and - Carol stopped herself from thinking the word "love", and instead turned her thoughts back on Daryl, who still stared at her quizzically, while his lip twitched upward in the corner briefly.

"'m fine." He said gruffly. Rather gruffly.

Carol was surprised at the huskiness in his voice, and looked up at him with one eyebrow raised. She couldn't help but smile herself when she saw that his eyes, his normally bright, clear blue eyes, had darkened from their original colour into something mysterious and deep.

What she saw next sent a shiver down her spine, and sent a heat coursing through her veins.

_Want._

Daryl Dixon didn't know much, but all he knew was that he wanted to feel Carol's lips on his again. He wanted to feel her body next to his, as close as they could get. And, being the independent, brash man he was, he got what he wanted.

Within seconds, their lips had once again joined in that teasing battle for dominance, and despite the almost silent hums that escaped Carol's throat, she seemed to be winning. He didn't mind at all.

Her arms pulled him back further into her cell, out of view of anyone who might have been looking from the lower level. Now truly alone, together, Carol allowed herself a little more freedom; her hands moved from behind him to his shoulders, tracing the strong contours of his arms and chest, eventually wrapping around him again and drawing him close.

Daryl's head was spinning. Still at a loss for what to do, he allowed her to take the lead. Her hands exploring his torso was beginning to make him feel light headed, not to mention tighter below the belt. He groaned as one of her hands made its way into his hair, the other pulling at his waist and bringing them tight against one another.

He felt her smile into his lips.

Before he knew it, she had him pushed back onto her cot, sitting with the top few buttons of his shirt undone. For the first time since her lips made contact with his, she pulled back fully and stood up.

Daryl decided he didn't like the worried look on her face. He felt nervous too, terrified, the temptation to run still coursing through his veins. Still, there was something dark and mysterious in Carol's eyes and part of him was dying to find out what it was.

As she rose up, he watched her delicate fingers find the hem of her shirt and gently lift up.

His eyes snapped up to her face as he saw a blush creep across her cheeks. She was nervous.

Carol knew he was watching her expression, seeing the makings of thought behind his darkened eyes. Biting her lip, she pushed her insecurities away - this was Daryl, a man of honour, who had become so very important to her that she felt she owed him this honesty. This naked honesty.

Her greyed tank top was pulled over her head and discarded on the floor, standing before him in a threadbare black bra and her red pants.

Daryl's voice felt like it had been hiding somewhere for the last minute, but as she looked at him with that soft smile of hers, open and warm and inviting, the words seemed to come of their own volition.

"C'mere." He said. In an instant, her lips were on his again, and he was scooting further back on the mattress to allow her to sit over his lap, one knee on either side of his legs. Finally getting the courage to touch her, his hands tentatively found her waist, causing her to shiver.

Daryl invariably paused, looking up as though for permission. Carol chuckled and nodded, pressing a tender kiss to his cheekbone before trailing her kisses back to his lips. She sighed into them, again the feeling of melting washing over the redneck. His arms wrapped around her, her bare skin pressed against his exposed flesh from under his shirt. It sent jolts through his body, his blood verily pumping everywhere before beginning to pool lower and lower down his torso.

To Carol, his rough hands combined with the hesitance and tenderness he used to touch her, felt unlike anything she'd experienced. It was becoming clear to her that Daryl wasn't particularly confident in this area - at least he wasn't very demanding. He was taking his time, and she was going to let him. It surprised her when his lips broke away from hers and began exploring her jawline and neck, grazing and kissing and breathing on her skin.

One of his hands made its way around in front, resting on her ribcage. It was warm, and the gentle pressure felt so good a contented gasp made its way out of Carol's throat as that hand skimmed over her bra, resting over her breast. The movement of his lips on her collarbone slowed, wrestling his inexperience while trying to go with his instincts.

Carol helped by gently pushing against his hand, Daryl's fingers contracting slightly in response, which elicited another subtle moan from the woman above him.

_Why haven't I tried this before?_  She thought to herself with mild amusement as his hand worked its way under the cup of her bra to connect with the soft, sensitive skin underneath. She clutched his hair with one hand as he tore his lips from her neck to observe his own ministrations, looking between her face, and the impossibly pale, milky skin of her breast as he worked.

"Oh my-" She sighed as Daryl got impatient and pushed her bra up all the way, his lips then finding her nipple and gently testing the motion.

In minutes, he had Carol's arms around his shoulders once more and she was rendered speechless with the warmth of his mouth. His own tension was beginning to ease as he realized that the less he thought about - the easier it was to enjoy himself.

Watching her intrigued him, the subtle changes in her eyebrows as he applied more pressure here, or there, or did _this_  with his tongue - for him it was all new, and the excitement was outweighing the nerves.

Carol pulled her bra off then, over her head and tossed it down with her shirt as she brought Daryl's lips back up to hers.

She felt herself pouring out so much emotion in that kiss, she wondered if he would somehow realize and, retreat, afraid.

He may have done, if he weren't feeling the same things, unable to put them into words. His hands traveled the length of her back affectionately, pulling her into an embrace. He loved the feeling of her in his arms, though he could feel every raised scar on her lower back and waist as he ran his hands over her. As his left hand found the other, yet undiscovered right side of her chest, he was compelled to look at her right then.

Carol's eyes were on him, sparkling, and the sweetest smile he had ever seen was written on her features. Stunned him, it did. "You..." He said, unsure of what he meant to follow.

Her smile broadened, and she shook her head, taking his face in her hand and kissing him chastely on the lips.

Daryl smiled, as his eyes fell from her lips to her collarbone, to her breasts and finally to where his hand rested on her ribs. As he moved his hand, however, he noticed a small, black line of text just under where her bra would sit.

Her eyes widened as she remembered what was there, and she shifted slightly, lips dropping open.

The redneck examined it closer, pulling her forward.

Scanning the tattoo, he realized it was in a child's writing - and then he froze.

 

_It'll be alright._

 

Carol's breath hitched as she watched some of the colour drain from her face, and she felt an all-too familiar tightening in her chest as she brought up a hand to cover Daryl's, closing it over the tattoo.

"Was that-" He asked quietly, not able to look at her in the face.

Nodding, she replied "Yeah. Sophia's."

Silence passed between them for a minute before Carol breathed in deeply, her thumb gently rubbing Daryl's wrist all the while. "It was from a note - she used to write me notes sometimes, in her school books. It was the one place she knew Ed would never look."

The memory of her little girl caused the tightness in her chest to turn almost unbearable.

"One day, it..." She paused, willing herself to speak clearly, without breaking. "It got bad and, Sophia heard. I tried to keep her away from it as much as possible but -" She shrugged, trying to distance herself from the memory itself.

Daryl looked up at her finally, the pain on her face so evident that he felt like his own heart might break.

"You don' hafta tell me." He said, trying to make it easier.

She shook her head, smiling sadly. "I want to."

He looked at her then, completely still, waiting.

With a shaky breath, Carol continued. "The next day I was checking over her homework and I found a note, dated the day before, and all it said was 'Mommy, I'm sorry. It'll be alright.'" A tear or two made its way down her face then, impossible to hold back. "Got it tattooed a week later - and you know what?" She asked rhetorically. "Ed didn't, didn't even notice. Had it for two damn years and he never noticed."

She laughed bitterly, and Daryl's temper quickly rose at the thought of her good-for-nothing, dead, husband. It had never sat well with him, how Ed treated Carol. But even in death, it was clear that he still affected her from time to time.

Daryl decided he wanted her close. The two of them, they were close. If he were being honest with himself, Carol had seen more of his real moments than most of the people he grew up with - Merle's buddies, his chicks, his customers. He liked that she had seen so much of him. It scared him, true, but it also made him realize that he felt close to her too.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her in, his face resting in the curve of her neck as he pressed his lips into the skin where he could feel her pulse.

They stayed like that for a few minutes before they both heard the sound of footsteps from below, and Rick was calling Daryl's name.

"Watch." The younger Dixon brother sighed, muffled.

Carol nodded, biting her lip. She stood up eventually, covering herself with her arms before quickly retrieving her bra from the floor.

In that moment, Daryl seemed to realize where he was, and what he had been doing. He stood, eyes darting around nervously until she had her shirt back on, taking a step toward him.

"I gotta go." He said, looking down at her.

"I know." She said, her eyebrows furrowed, as though she were scared of something.

_I'm scared of losing him._

She knew it before the words crossed her mind.

Daryl turned to the door to leave, when her hand shot out and grabbed one of his. He looked back, only half-turned.

"Come back tonight. I- Nothin' has to happen, I just-" Carol found it hard to find the words for once, trying not to put any pressure on him, yet unable to mask that she really did want him there. Needed him.

To her delight, Daryl nodded.

To her surprise, he squeezed her hand before letting his drop back to his side.

"Alright." He said before turning out of sight, looking back once, though he knew he could not longer see her from that angle.

_Alright._

From Daryl Dixon, that word meant everything to her.

It made her believe, as she stood alone in her cell - body still warm from being flush against his, that  _she_  would be alright.

_He_  would be alright.

They would  _all_  be alright - just like her baby girl said.

 


	5. Return Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I still don't own the characters, ideas or places used in The Walking Dead. SPOILERS for 03 x 09.
> 
> Request: Anonymous request to see Carol and Daryl's first kiss after his return from the woods with Merle.

* * *

Return Home

 

The rain had been welcome.

Though the days had grown darker and were quickly transitioning to the cooler temperatures of the late fall, the first drop of water that fell from the sky had been cause for celebration.

All of them, even Hershel, had made the trip outside at the refreshing sound of rainfall on the concrete prison roof. While Carl and Beth laughed, Rick watching carefully on the sidelines, Carol had her face turned upward, arms partially outstretched to feel the small raindrops sliding over her skin as they landed.

Her eyes drifted shut, the smallest smile on her face. For a moment, she forgot that everything hurt.

Carol forgot, in that rare moment, that she was sore, hungry, and tired beyond belief. She forgot that her family was breaking apart, that Rick was slowly losing his way, and that her heart was still aching. Daryl had gone.

He wasn't dead, thank Heaven, but it was almost worse that he had just … left.

Willing the thoughts away for what must have been the thousandth time, Carol merely sighed and let the water seep into her hair as she stood alone in the rain.

 

...

 

"The fuck you sayin'?!" Daryl shouted at Merle's back.

The older Dixon brother didn't even turn, he just shrugged and kept walking. "Jus' that it's a damn good thing you came with me, little brotha'. If not, you'd be dead as a fuckin' doornail. The Governor probably got his people all riled up and on their way to yer prison as we speak."

Daryl couldn't see it, but the wicked smile on Merle's face would have made his blood boil. In his mind however, his expression wasn't much different. Daryl knew what Merle was like, and though he was blood, there had scarcely been a moment since leaving the group that he hadn't wondered if it was the right choice.

Now, hearing those words from his brother, he felt a deep searing in his chest at the thought of his  _other_  family being killed at the hands of a man like the Governor.

Killed.

His thoughts immediately turned to Carol, seeing her bright blue eyes looking up at him from the cell where he found her, both strong, and too weak at the same time. Besides everyone else, she had gotten so strong since Atlanta, so brave, and the memory of the many smiles she had shared - just with him - made his jaw clench. The Governor was going to kill them all. Kill Carol.

That was the last straw.

"Fuck you." He said quietly.

It was quiet enough for Merle to turn, this time a scowl on his face. "What you say?"

Daryl's fists now balled up, he looked Merle square in the face and said "Fuck you."

Merle smirked, the twisting up of his lips mirroring the motion of Daryl's intestines in that moment. "Got a problem with that?" He jeered, licking his lips. "Though of your buddies all trapped in their prison while the Governor brings in his men?"

A vein throbbed in Daryl's neck.

"He gon' shoot 'em all up, y'know. Ain't gonna let none of 'em live. They shoulda jus' left you behind with me."

Daryl remembered this feeling; it was a kind of hatred that hurt more than anything, because it was wrapped up in love too. The look on Merle's face told him that he saw it too. The pain, the love, the hate. It was as though his older brother was daring him to do something about it.

That's when it clicked.

How long had Merle been waiting for Daryl to do something about it? How many years had Daryl seen that same look cross his brother's face, challenging and smug - as though he knew that nothing would ever come of it. It was a dare.

"I'm goin' back."

This time, Daryl wasn't going to back away from the challenge.

Surprisingly, it felt good.

 

...

 

The days had been darker not only for the coming of fall, but after Glenn and Maggie finally spoke about what had happened in Woodbury, the possibility of a retaliation seemed more and more likely to the group. None of them were quite sure what to do about it.

Glenn and Maggie were unwilling to lose the prison, they wanted to fight, which made the rest of them irritable and scared, as Rick's choice was to evacuate, taking as many supplies and provisions as possible.

Michonne sided with the young couple, still at the prison because of her injury - healing very slowly. Perhaps more slowly than necessary, but Beth suspected that her father was keeping her there on purpose: the woman was a fighter. Dangerous perhaps, but she could fight for herself and was as good a soldier as any, if there was an ambush.

Tyreese and his group offered to help them stay and fight - which wasn't what Rick wanted to hear at all. He had exploded at the man time and time again, threatening to kick them out, without taking any action. The group knew that Rick was scared. They were all scared.

Carol had taken watch with Carl that morning, the grounds outside still drying from the downpour of the day before. The two of them hovered around the gates, looking out at the few walkers that roamed around, hissing and spitting lazily as they ground their rotting noses into the links of the fence.

The rain brought a welcome reprieve from the smell of hot, dead flesh. Now that it was drying out, Carl wrinkled his nose as he started to smell it again.

"That was some rain." Carol said with a small smile, looking down at the boy.

Nodding, Carl glanced up at her. "Good for the grass, I bet."

The small statement warmed Carol's heart. How long had it been since any of them had seen a garden? Since the Greene farm, no doubt, but just the mention of green grass brought another smile to her lips. Silence passed between them for a few minutes longer, pacing back and forth over the gravel before Carl said: "I'm sorry, you know."

Carol raised an eyebrow. "What for?"

"For Daryl."

Carol's lips tightened, as she nodded wryly. Her eyes turned back to the prison, mostly just to avoid looking at Carl.

The young boy didn't seem to catch on, as he continued: "He was kinda like your family, wasn't he?"

At this, the older woman turned and said "You're family too." with a smile.

Carl nodded, still looking skeptical. "But he loved you." The statement was simple, and completely confident.

Carols's chest tightened as she countered. "I love him." It was the first time she had ever said it out loud, but she knew, that everyone who had seen the two of them interact also knew it. "It's not the same thing." She said, mostly for herself.

She loved him. She wasn't sure when she realized, but it had been a long time coming. Perhaps she had loved him since Sophie went missing - Carol no longer knew nor cared. All she cared about was the hole in her heart Daryl had left the moment he did.

She could tell Carl was about to say something else, but the familiar sound of dead flesh being pierced by a weapon, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground behind them caused both to turn.

At the fence, one walker was on its way down to the ground, revealing a cruel-looking knife attachment. That attachment was joined to the arm of Merle Dixon.

Carol's eyes widened at the sight of him, as he looked at her in disbelief before a twisted smile crawled onto his lips.

"Daryl!"

Carl cried out the hunter's name, tearing Carol's eyes away from Merle and to the person next to him.

Daryl had come back, and he was looking right at her.

His eyes were dark, and spoke volumes as she watched his chest heave. It was a look she had come to adore; his expression was unreadable, yet there was something in his face that reminded her of how he had looked when he went looking for Sophia.

Carol stared back, unable to care that she probably looked far less composed than he did, caring even less that Merle was standing next to him.

The snarl of more approaching walkers brought all of them out of it, as Merle said "Hey peach, you gonna' let us in or what?"

Ignoring him completely, Carol turned to Carl and said "Go get Rick." before the young boy took off.

Carol opened the first gate wordlessly, but closed it behind her. Between the two fences, she merely stared at both Dixons, her own expression hardening.

Merle whistled. "Would ya look at that, baby brotha'." He shook his head, looking at her like she was food.

Carol stood her ground until she heard the door close behind her, and footsteps coming across the gravel.

Rick's voice floated up from behind her. "Carol, let 'em in."

She didn't nod, she just unlocked the gate as Daryl turned to put down one more walker, before the two brothers hurried in.

Carol moved quickly through the second gate that Rick opened for her. As Daryl made to follow, Rick stepped in front of him, expression steely.

Daryl's featured softened, and a look of guilt immediately wrote itself on his face.

Merle began tapping his metal appendage against the railing of the fence, urging them continue. Daryl just prayed he kept his mouth shut.

The former sherriff stared firmly at Daryl, who dared not speak a word after their last encounter. Something in Rick's face told the redneck he wasn't angry, necessarily, but as though there was a point he was trying to convey. Daryl didn't catch on.

"Get inside." Rick whispered, glancing back at the prison.

As he moved aside, Daryl saw that Carol had been waiting by the stairs.

He wasn't surprised as he heard a string of curses explode from Merle's mouth as Rick blocked his passage. "You n' I are gonna talk. Now." He heard Rick say, before Merle's shouting grew. Carl stood by the fence, his eyebrows furrowed as he glared at Merle. Daryl didn't want to leave the scene, especially not when he could almost hear the crunch of Rick's hand against his brother's jaw - but at this point, he would do anything Rick said. The crushing weight of guilt slowed him as he made for the stairs, and Carol's smile.

She couldn't help herself; she wanted to be angry with him, and part of her was, but the mere sight of him was enough to make her want to throw her arms around him and never let him go.

They walked up the stairs in silence, but when the metal door clanged shut behind them, Daryl froze at the touch of Carol's fingers on his arm.

The small concrete stairwell was very dimly lit by the sun, even in the middle of the afternoon. Short of the lower levels that had no windows, it was one of the darkest places in the prison. Still, the brilliant beam of light that illuminated the corridor was enough to cast light on Carol's silver hair, and half of her face.

Daryl remarked silently how long her hair was getting, and though unkempt, was rather fetching on her. The smile was even better. He couldn't believe she was smiling at him, after leaving. The look she had given him by the fence told him that she understood - but he would have been pretty pissed if the same had happened to him.

And as the quiet realization of that thought hit him, Carol's hand on his arm tightened gently. She stepped toward him.

"Why'd you come back?" She asked, knowing the question was fully loaded.

Daryl frowned. "To warn ya." He was sure she'd know about the Governor by now, and that he didn't have to do any explaining.

While he was right, Carol's lips erased the smile, replacing it with an expression that mimicked Daryl's. "That it?"

Daryl didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to put into words the fact that he couldn't stand to see anyone else get hurt, not when he could protect them. He couldn't stand to see her get hurt. Carol watched his expression turn into one that made him appear fraught with uncertainty. She saw the little boy that appeared less and less frequently since those first few days in Atlanta, and watched his lips twitch in an inability to speak.

She wasn't sure words could do any good at this point. Her heart was soaring. She hated to admit it - especially after trying to remain calm about the whole situation - but she had never been more relieved in her life. About anything. The sight of Daryl there again was enough incentive for her to push away her own doubts, and act on the impulse that next took her.

Releasing her hand from his arm, she moved to his face and quickly brought her lips to his.

The gentle pressure of her lips on his was mesmerizing. She lingered there, long enough for him to breathe in the familiar smell of her hair and skin, and to notice that her lips weren't as chapped as they had looked before.

He made a noise of surprise, the moment the sound hit the air it was as though the wind had been knocked out of him; he pulled away almost frantically, though he didn't back away from her altogether.

His face was a few inches from hers, looking at her in alarm.

Carol's lips pulled up sweetly in the corners, putting something in Daryl's hest at ease.

Her thumb caressed his cheek softly, her blue eyes looking up with a sureness he couldn't remember seeing in her before. He was unsure of what to do then, his hands frozen at his side and his feet unwilling to move. But God, he wished he could run.

Not because he didn't like it.

But because he did. And he didn't know what that meant.

"Thanks for comin' back." She said quietly.

He could barely nod, his lips threatening to turn upwards in a smile.

"Sure." He said.

And then she did it again, kissed him. He backed up, reeling, into the wall.

Carol's lips covered his for the span of twenty seconds.

In that time, he remembered her smell again, so pleasant and comforting. He learned the feeling of her lips, their shape, against his. Daryl marveled at her bravery, and at the way hers hands now framed his face, as if he were something special. Twenty seconds of her lips on his taught him volumes.

Mostly, it taught him that he had made the right choice, beyond a shadow of a doubt in coming home.

Because he had come home. Despite feeling like he would never understand the tightness in his chest, those twenty seconds told him that Carol  _was_  home.

 


	6. Kiss, Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Spoilers up to 03x12. This was prompted on tumblr by asamcedesfan - I was asked to write a first-kiss that is interrupted before it actually comes to fruition. I hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead in any way, not the characters, concepts or places involved.

* * *

Kiss, Interrupted

 

Time had slowed to a crawl the moment she walked into his cell.

Not only because the blood hammering through her veins told her that she was about to attempt something ludicrous, but because of the look he gave her as she knocked softly on the metal of the doorframe, announcing her presence. It was a look he rarely gave her . One that meant he was in a bad mood.

Daryl Dixon being in a bad mood could mean practically anything, but the way his blue eyes snapped up to meet her the moment her shadow crossed the threshold, Carol could feel the colour rising in her cheeks and the world screeching to a halt.

Merle had been a loose cannon ever since his arrival at the prison, and with the eminent war on their doorstep, he had only been fired up more by Glenn's leadership and Rick's deteriorating mental state; he finally lost it, storming out on them, taking only Daryl's throwing knife and blasting out into the yard where there must have been fifty walkers pressed up against the inner fence. Daryl had opened his mouth to say something more than once, but after getting a rather harsh look from Rick, he had decided to step back. Retreating to his cell, Carol had been the first to follow him.

The soft sound of her heels on the ground hadn't deterred him in his speed. He walked as quickly as he could, practically jumping up the stairs three at a time before ducking into his cell. Carol waited a good minute or two, just standing there, out of sight. She didn't know why she had followed him.

Well, she did.

She hated seeing him upset. It affected her more than she would have liked to admit -though she knew perfectly well it was because she loved him.

When she entered his cell and he looked up at her, with those eyes full of frustration and sadness, she found herself at a loss for words. She was going to talk about how far he had come, how what Merle did was Merle's own business, and that Rick wouldn't let anything happen to him - even while he was outside.

All those words were gone.

Instead, she took a few more steps into the room, while he watched her every move like a hawk. His lips were pressed into a thin line, chewing on his lower lobe nervously as her eyes locked with his.

Carol felt supremely awkward.

There was normally an ease about their relationship, in the way that they could be silent with one another and have it be the most comfortable sound for miles. Right then, all Carol could hear was her own heartbeat hammering in her chest as she took another step forward, then dropping down to her knees, next to Daryl on the bottom bunk. Her hands rested on the thin blanket covering the mattress, mere inches from the dirty leg of Daryl's cargo pants.

She tried to smile as she looked up at him, the lump in her throat growing as his gaze seemed to overpower her own.

He hadn't moved; Carol wouldn't have been surprised if he was frozen like that, what with the way his eyes had widened the moment she lowered herself down to his level. As though she were going to do something unexpected, like kiss him.

_Kiss him?_

Carol didn't let such thoughts get in the way of her actions. Normally. But in that moment, the kneeling woman felt like it was the only thought that made sense.

She had nothing to say but words already said before, and she had no other way of expressing to the man before her how she felt -how she wanted  _him_  to feel.

Before she knew it, she found herself only an inch or two from his face. His breath was hot on her lips, and she could practically feel the stubble on his face brushing against her skin in anticipation of what she was about to do.

Daryl was too nervous even to recoil, though he noted dimly that there was a part of him that didn't want to bolt. Carol looked better the closer she got, and with her clear eyes still staring straight into his, he knew didn't want to escape that refreshing blue. Not yet.

"Daryl..." He heard her whisper against his mouth, putting a little more of her weight on the mattress, causing him to sink ever-so-slightly toward her.

His heart froze, while hers felt like it might tear a hole in her ribcage if their lips actually met.

This was it.

Carol's eyes fluttered shut as they braced themselves for the electric touch of the other's lips.

A cough echoed like a gunshot from the doorway.

The pair separated from one another like opposing magnets, both of them looking toward the door with panic, heat visibly rising in their faces.

"Well don' let me stop yah." Merle drawled, a sickening, sideways grin on his face as he looked from Daryl over to Carol. His eyes trained on her lips for a brief moment, drifting down to where the colour had started to form on her collarbone and the top of her chest.

Carol said nothing.

Daryl said nothing.

Instead, the younger Dixon brother stood abruptly, his white-knuckled fists clenched hard and his jaw locked. Without so much as looking at her, he strode towards the open door and pushed past Merle, who chuckled until Daryl's footfalls could no longer be heard from the top floor.

Carol's mouth had dropped open, and she was still staring blankly at Merle in shock as his laughter subsided. He leaned against the door frame as she shakily rose from her spot on the floor.

"I think 'e likes ya." The older man said with a smirk.

Carol shot him a look of annoyance as she made for the door.

"Excuse me." She said, staring at the arm he had crossing the frame and blocking her way.

"You gon' go find him now? Finish what ya started?" He teased.

Carol pushed past him inelegantly, unintentionally searching the lower floor for Daryl before turning back to Merle. "Not that it's any of your business, but I just might."

 


	7. Another Man's Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tumblr prompt: While Daryl and Merle are away from the prison, they find a house one night in which to stay. While there, Daryl stumbles upon the couple's engagement rings and can't help himself but get back to the prison in a hurry, with one thing on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Spoilers up to and including 03 x 10! This will be done in two parts, because the idea itself was really in-depth. I hope you guys enjoy it! 
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead. The ideas, characters, places and concepts belong to Frank Darabont, AMC, and the original creators of the comic.

* * *

Another Man's Treasure

_Part I_

 

The mud was slippery underfoot as Daryl's boots filled to the linings with water. They squelched uncomfortably with every step, though he said nothing of it as he followed the clear outline of his brother walking between the trees of the swamp. In fact, Daryl Dixon hadn't had much to say at all since he and Merle made their way from Rick and the small group of people that ambushed the prison. The brothers trudged along in silence for an hour at a time, the sound of silence interrupted only by the breaking of twigs and leaves, and the odd crude comment from Merle.

This time, it was Daryl who spoke: "We should find somewhere. Bunk up for the night."

Merle didn't turn around as he replied. "What, that what you an' yer little friends used to do? Don't like roughin' it these days?"

Daryl frowned, readjusting the bag slung over his shoulder. "Things pretty rough these days, ain't they?"

Merle chuckled, the sound sending the faintest chill down the younger Dixon's spine that slowed his step.

The water began to pool in his boots as he finally stopped to look around them. Nothing in sight, not even walkers.

"You wanna just find somewhere to stay? Wait out this... _apocalypse_ , little brotha?" Merle had finally turned to face him, an expression somewhere between a sneer and his trademark smirk twisting his thin lips. "'Cause I think it's a little late for that."

Daryl looked down. "Ain't no sense in bein' out in the woods at night. Can't see shit and the walkers get -"

"More active. I know." Merle finished.

Daryl took a moment to muse on the fact that Merle did have a way of following his train of thought. He used to say that because he was the older one, he had already thought all the things Daryl was going to think later in life. Daryl believed it too, probably a lot longer than he should have.

As the sky began to darken above them however, Daryl refused to budge.

"I ain't stayin' out here to be walker bait."

With that, he headed for a clearing in the trees.

After a few seconds of stunned silence, he heard Merle's footfalls behind him and a murmuring that meant his brother was getting pissed off.

Contrary to popular belief, when Merle was being Merle, he wasn't mad. He just liked to stir shit up. He always had, especially because it usually meant their dad paid less attention to him, at Merle's expense. And  _damn_ , did it ever make him feel guilty. Daryl had more than his fair share of scars, but he knew that Merle's were deeper.

As he walked, his thoughts turned from his own scars to the night on Hershel's farm after he had been shot. He hadn't been in a bed that soft since his mom was alive; she used to take him in there to sleep when her husband was passed out at a friend's trailer, too drunk to come home. He decided that the farm was a little better, given the fact that he had been at home during those times.

Carol's soft footfalls on the wooden floors of the house were burned into his memory, because of how she kissed him, thanked him, and all he had done was cover up the terrible scars that made him ugly.

_Among other things_. He thought bitterly, immediately pushing the memory away before he had time to contemplate the feeling of her lips on his cheek.

"What if we're just goin' further into this Goddamn swamp?" Merle snapped him out of his makeshift reverie, forcing him to ignore the pulling sensation in his chest that seemed to get worse every time he thought of the prison.

Daryl said nothing and kept walking.

 

…

 

Just as the sky had turned to black a dark shape loomed out of the treeline.

"Well, I'll be damned." Merle muttered bemusedly as they came up on the old house.

It was an older-looking house, two floors with the windows boarded up, only on the bottom floor of course. Daryl couldn't tell what colour the chipped paint was in the dark, not that it mattered.

The front door had been boarded up as well, but neither Dixon brother cared about the noise they made as the wood splintered under their heels. Once inside the house, the smell of rot quickly invaded their noses and Merle's upper lip curled in disgust.

"Eyes open, little brotha." He whispered, immediately taking a defensive position against the wall, and motioning for the kitchen door ahead of them.

Daryl took point, crossbow at the ready as he treaded silently over the dusty floor. He saw the fridge and part of a table from the open doorway, no movement from anywhere else in the house. As he neared the entrance, he passed a mantle where a dozen frames sat in-line, featuring a smiling couple in various locations all over the world. Daryl hazarded a glance at the last one before he passed, seeing a man kneeling down and presenting a surprised woman with a ring.

He frowned, training his eyes back on the task at hand as he edged into the kitchen. Again, nothing as the floorboards creaked ever so slightly underfoot.

Sticking a hand around the frame, he motioned for Merle to follow. His older brother came into the kitchen, his knife-attachment poised at the ready. Together, they made short work of the rest of the house, finally making their way upstairs to clear the family rooms.

Merle's boot then connected with a doorstop, the dull thud echoing eerily through the hallway as they flanked the door to the master bedroom.

As if on cue, an all-too familiar gurgling sounded to life from within the room. Daryl shot Merle daggers with his blue eyes, who only shrugged in response and peered in.

What they saw made Merle scoff, and stopped Daryl in his tracks.

Dead fingers clutched each other in a permanent embrace, two bodies laying on the floor with black blood, dried in the telltale mark of a close-range shot to the chest spilling outwards from both corpses. Their greyed hands were intertwined, a rifle sitting a foot away from the man's other hand.

The woman, Daryl recognized as the woman from the picture in the living room, and his eyes involuntarily drifted down to her left hand, where she clutched two sparkling objects in a vice-like grip. His heart felt heavy as he watched their eyes go from closed, almost peaceful, to a milky grey accompanied by the noises of a reanimated walker.

Merle chuckled from inside the room. The older Dixon brother was already standing next to the couple, looking down at the sad sight as though it were some kind of joke.

"Took the easy way out." He said, looking at Daryl.

Their blue eyes met, and Daryl frowned. "Wasn' that easy." He said, looking again at the rings in the woman's fingers. His heart clenched as he thought of the silver band Carol used to wear on her finger when she was married to Ed.

He caught himself looking at it more than once, wondering what kind of woman she was, to marry a man like him. That was long before he knew her, before he got used to her smiles, and the way they lit up more and more as the weeks passed.

"You wanna do somethin' about this?" Merle asked, pointing his knife-hand at the stirring couple. "Keep starin' an' they'll get ya." He teased.

Daryl stepped into the room with a frown. "Shut up." He said quietly, before putting an arrow in each of their skulls before his brother had time to reply. "I ain't sleepin' in here." He said after a moment, looking back at Merle.

The older man looked on him with cold eyes, a slight smile on his lips. "No? An' here I thought with all these walkers 'round ya might actually get laid." A grin split on his face then, a low chuckle escaping his throat.

"Shut the fuck up." Daryl snapped.

"Oooh." Merle whistled. "Lookit you. Growin' a pair n' everything."

"I said, shut up." Daryl echoed, taking a step toward his brother.

Merle put both arms up, but didn't back away. "Easy there, no need t'get yer panties in a bunch there."

Daryl sneered and stared him down. He had always assumed he was shorter than Merle, never having been close to him long enough to confirm it. As he glared into his older sibling's eyes, however, he realized that he stood marginally taller than Merle. He humphed.

"Get out." Daryl said lowly.

Putting his hands down, Merle made for the door at a saunter.

"Didn' know y'all was into walkers." He said, barely looking over his shoulder.

Daryl could feel his blood beginning to boil, but before he had time to react, Merle was out the door and traipsing down the hallway.

Shaking his head, the blue-eyed man knelt down next to the couple of still biters, putting his crossbow aside.

Their faces were still intact, no blood or flesh stuck in their teeth.

They hadn't eaten anyone. They had been left alone by the world, with each other, and taken themselves out of it when horror struck. Daryl couldn't say he blamed them.

He didn't plan on sleeping there, he'd probably go down to the living room and crash on the couch. Beds didn't do much for him anymore, it didn't matter where he slept so long as he was with the group.

And he wasn't with the group.

For the first time since leaving Rick on the road, Daryl had time alone to think about his choice.

Merle would have made a terrible mess of things, he knew, but the guilt and unease that had struck him the moment the pair of them walked off into the trees seemed to grow worse. With each passing minute, he felt like he was in the wrong place, with the wrong people. Even when that "people" was only one person.

Merle set people on edge, but those people were Daryl's family, and he could feel it like a chill in his bones as he looked at the dead couple on the ground. They had been each other's family. And they were both gone.

Daryl still had everyone he loved. Almost.

_Sophia._

His mind still turned to her every time he thought of loss. And then, inevitably, his thoughts turned to the mother of that sweet little girl he couldn't protect.

Carol would know he wasn't coming back by now.

What did she do, when Rick told her? Did she ask?

All Daryl Dixon knew was that she would undoubtedly understand. That didn't make it any easier on him as he thought of the way her face looked when she was holding back tears. In his memory, she smiled more than she cried, and always looked for him first whenever she walked into a room. He wasn't stupid - she cared for him and he knew it. He didn't  _understand_  why, but it was true nonetheless. And it made him furious to think that anything could happen to her while he wasn't there.

Suddenly, leaving the group was the stupidest idea he'd ever had.

He knew how to deal with Merle. His older brother was an asshole, but not a murderer. He could keep him in line at the prison. They just had to go back.

Daryl needed to be home again.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and inhaled deeply, gearing up for a conversation he knew had to happen tonight. Merle wasn't going to be happy. But at that point, Daryl thought, it was his brother's decision to stay or go.

Before standing up again, Daryl reached across the woman's corpse and pried open her fingers - knocking one clean off in the process.

Together the rings sat in her palm, undoubtedly removed in the moments before her death. He could tell that she was killed first. The look on her face, however greyed and rotting, was peaceful.

Taking the rings in hand without a second thought, he shoved them into his pocket and picked up his crossbow.

Soon, he would be home.

 


	8. Another Man's Treasure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While Daryl and Merle are away from the prison, they find a house one night in which to stay. While there, Daryl stumbles upon the couple's engagement rings and can't help himself but get back to the prison in a hurry, with one thing on his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: WARNING. Spoilers up to and including 03 x 10! I know it's much longer than the first, and I'm not 100% satisfied by the way this one came out, but I sincerely hope you guys enjoy it.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead in any part. The ideas, characters, places and concepts belong to Frank Darabont, AMC, and the original creators of the comic.

* * *

Another Man's Treasure

_Part II_

 

Carol inhaled deeply as she watched the sunrise from the tower.

Glenn stood next to her, silent as she was, with only the quiet sounds of the lazy, braindead walkers below them in the fields.

It wasn't until the sun was shining bright, hot orange light on them did Carol stir. The Korean knew where her mind had been for the last day. After Rick had come back with Glenn and Maggie, beat to shit and _without Daryl_ , he knew exactly where her mind had gone. When he looked down at her, the small woman with her back pressed up against the outer wall and eyes turned up at the harsh sunrise, he could see the tears that she had been holding back.

Carol knew he was looking at her, and she returned his attention with an attempt at a smile.

It felt threadbare.

Much like the rest of her, she felt as though the wind had been taken out of her sails. The prison family they had, and it was a family, had instantly become less when Rick looked into her eyes, silently telling her what she feared would happen months before. She thought they had him. She thought Daryl would have always come back to them.

"I know." Glenn broke the silence between them. no doubt because of the insincerity of Carol's smile.

She nodded, heaving a sigh and pulling her greying sweater tighter across her body.

"If it wasn't for Merle-" He said, bitterly, but Carol cut him off.

"If it wasn't for Merle, of course he would have come back." She said. "But he didn't. Merle's his brother."

"Yeah, but we're his family too." Glenn said, turning away from the sun and fully facing the silver-haired woman behind him. Carol noted that with him standing in front of the sun, he looked as though he were glowing. Her smile quirked back up again, this time, with a little more truth behind it.

"You don't know men like Merle. They're not all bad, but they get under your skin, make you feel like you're not worth anything without 'em." She sighed, closing her eyes and resting her head against the cool concrete behind her. "I understand, Glenn. I really do."

The young man scoffed, more so at the situation than at her. He turned back, looking out at the prison yard.

"You shouldn't have to." He said, bowing his head.

Carol was caught with the frankness in his voice, and she moved to stand up next to him. Her bones, her muscles, all of her was sore from sitting in that same position for hours. Reaching out a hand, she touched his arm gently and studied his face.

The bruises and cuts were nothing, she realized. She knew his expression; Glenn was hurt, but he wasn't worrying a jot about himself. Carol knew that face. Knew it because she had spent ten years of her life with the same one, ignoring your bruises, cuts, and scrapes all in the hope that the person you loved would be safe.

Maggie had indeed come back looking better than Glenn, but even Carol noticed the way Maggie wouldn't touch Glenn. Something had happened in Woodbury. To all of them.

Carol could feel her heart breaking for the Korean, who now looked at her with an expression she understood in a split second. "I know." She said quietly.

It was his turn to nod. One of his hands came to rest on her own, squeezing gently.

"I thought he would come back for you." He said then, his eyes searching the ground between them.

Carol felt an all-too familiar clenching in her chest, and she couldn't meet his eyes either. Glenn knew how she felt about Daryl - Hell, probably everybody knew except Daryl.

 _But I don't have to worry about him anymore_. She tried to reason with herself.

But before she could stop herself, her voice formed the words: "I'm never gonna stop wishing he did."

Glenn's arm was around her, and then she felt her own cheeks wet with tears.

 

...

 

Daryl trudged through the woods at a breakneck speed, Merle tailing him with a grimace that wouldn't quit.

It had been hours, and they were finally getting close to the prison. The few walkers they had come up against were no match, and Daryl hadn't lifted a finger. Merle had seen to it, clearly still in a mood after Daryl laid out his plan for returning.

"If you don't wanna come, then don't." Daryl said, leaning against the door frame.

From inside the living room, Merle had laid out all their supplies and was cleaning his knife-attachment when Daryl come in to tell him that he was returning to the prison. The older Dixon brother looked up at him, glaring daggers. "What'd you say?" He said.

"If you don't wanna come, don't." Daryl repeated. "But I'm goin' back. Today."

Merle's expression went from one of anger to one that Daryl had only seen pass over his features once or twice as a boy. He was scared. "But, I can't go back there n' you know it." He argued.

"No one's gonna stop ya."

"You don' know what I done in Woodbury." He said, throwing his cleaning cloth down on the table.

"You come back with me, or you can go."

Merle looked like he was at a loss, and for once, Daryl felt a surge of power rush through him at the expression of fear weaving its way into the lines on Merle's face. "You can't leave me, little brotha." He said angrily.

Daryl turned, slinging his already packed satchel over his shoulder. "I may be the one walkin' away, but you're the one that's leavin'."

Merle was at a loss, and just as Daryl was walking across the yard, crossbow in hand, he heard the screen door of the house shut, and the familiar sound of Merle's boots against the tall, wet grass behind him.

"Don't even know why the Hell you're goin' back." He said, walking a little closer to Daryl.

"I told ya, it's where I belong."

"A prison? Who'd a thought?" Merle drawled, looking sidelong at his brother.

Daryl said nothing, which only irritated his brother more. "What's the reason? You got somebody back there?"

"No." Daryl pursed his lips. He had probably answered too quick.

"Couldn't be." Merle said then, his drawl becoming more and more teasing by the minute. "I know you're scared of gettin' yer dick wet. I know it ain't because a' some bitch."

The younger Dixon brother chewed the inside of his cheek to remain silent, completely unaware of the fact that his hand was at his breastpocket, making sure the rings were still there.

He had given it a lot of thought that night. At first, he didn't know why he had taken the rings. Sure, the brothers had taken some supplies, food, water bottles, and some clean clothes, but why the rings?

Something had clicked inside him when he saw the couple of walkers lying side-by-side on the floor, even in death. The woman especially -Daryl thought it was as though she were the man's treasure. He knew she died first, to save her the pain of seeing her love die.

Daryl knew in that moment that he had only felt that way once; the moment he found Carol in the tombs, in that cell, dehydrated and barely breathing, he knew instantly that he would give anything not to have her go through that again, strong as she was. After Sophia, and everything else, he needed her to not feel pain.

Carol had belonged to Ed once upon a time. She had belonged to another man, but she was his treasure.

The prison loomed out of the trees toward them, and Daryl caught himself smile.

Merle caught it too.

 

...

 

Axel was dead.

She had almost died too, and she figured that if it hadn't been for Merle and Daryl coming back when they did, Rick would have been dead as well.

Carol shook as she washed Axel's blood off her forehead and lips, off her neck and collarbone as the grimy mirror in the prison lavatories told her she was paler than normal.

She was vaguely aware of Merle and Rick arguing in the kitchen, and no doubt that was Glenn's voice she heard added to the mix a few moments later.

The blood was gone, but she knew the image of his skull exploding in front of her, all over her, wouldn't disappear so soon.

Overtaken by a wave of nausea, she hunched over the sink, hands pressed on either side of the mirror as she willed the churning in her gut away. Her eyes screwed shut, she breathed in as best she could, seeking fresh air but only met with the sour smell of an old drain too infrequently cleaned.

Not working.

She ran from the room, a pale hand clutched over her mouth, careening down the hallway and straight out the door to the prison yard.

The fresh air was welcome, the evening now upon them and the sun sharing its last rays of light. Her blue eyes scanned the scene, walkers now further into into the compound than they had been before the surprise attack by the Governor's forces.

He had taken them all by surprise, especially with that van of walkers that destroyed their main gate.

"Shouldn' be out here alone." Came a voice behind her.

She whirled around, terror settling into her bones as she realized someone had been behind her the whole time.

Carol was about to swing when she noticed that it was Daryl, his clear eyes looking into her with concern.

"Daryl..." She breathed, the fear abating slightly, though her hands didn't relax fully as she stared into his eyes.

A silence floated between them, not uncomfortable, but heavy. Carol's eyes never left his, though both of them were dimly aware that somehow, she had moved closer to him. It was all she wanted to press herself against him, throw her arms around his neck and tell him how glad she was to see him. But the weight of Axel's death still weighed on her, and she wasn't even sure  _why_   he came back.

Instead, she settled for: "I'm glad you came back."

He looked at her curiously then, before his gaze dropped to the little space between them. He shifted, and she noticed that he too, was clenching his fists.

She chuckled, and he looked up at her, confused.

"You okay?" He asked, seconds later.

Carol couldn't lie.

But she also couldn't say that she wasn't okay - she realized that her nausea had abated at some point since stumbling upon the younger Dixon brother, and though her heart still clenched with similar pressure to a heart attack, she felt better than she had while knowing he was gone. So she said nothing, and instead she put her hands on his chest.

He flinched.

"Shh," She said, looking up at him.

Daryl stared into her eyes speculatively, trying desperately to figure out what her next move would be. He had enough space to bolt, and he knew it, but the warmth of her fingers was already spreading to the rest of his body, relaxing him in places, tightening in others.

Wordlessly, she curled her fingers into his shirt and gently coaxed him forward, close enough for her to reach up on her toes and press the simplest kiss against the corner of his mouth.

Quick, dry, and sweet.

Carol didn't want to pull away entirely for fear that he would run, but instead he surprised her. He made a noise in his throat, somewhere between a whimper and a growl, and one of his hands pulled at hers, detangling it from his shirt.

 _It makes sense,_  she thought, looking down at their hands.  _He never wanted this_.

Then, with one of her hands pried off his shirt, he opened it, and pressed something into it. Something small, something warm, and metal.

Before she could look, he had stepped back.

Before she could speak, he was gone.

Looking down, she opened her hand to reveal a slim, perfect band of white gold.

Scarcely feeling the ability to draw breath, she stared, incredulous, at the ring Daryl had pressed into her hand.

 

...

 

Carol found him on the perch, leaning on the railing and looking down. He didn't look up when she headed up the stairs, coming to stand next to him, shoulder-to-shoulder.

"It's a little big." She said with a smile, looking at him sidelong and holding the ring in one of her open, delicate hands.

He grunted, looking at the ring and then away from her.

He couldn't handle the way her eyes sparkled with mirth as she leaned into his shoulder ever so slightly, or the way she chuckled afterwards. "You did want me to wear it, didn't you?"

"Yeah." Daryl said, seconds later, only then finding the courage to look at her.

"Thank you." Carol said, her tone hushed.

"S'nothin'." He said, shrugging.

The hunter made to move away from her, but Carol stopped him with a hand on his bare arm. It sent shivers through him, as he turned despite his instinct to run.

"Is it nothin'?" Carol asked, her smile faltering a little.

She looked nervous, Daryl knew. He didn't know what to say. He wasn't good at romance, or any of that shit. He just knew that Carol was something special to him. Definitely not nothing. But how to tell her? He was at a loss.

Shaking his head slowly, Daryl looked down at her hand, which rested by her side and had closed again over the ring.

"Give it here." He choked out.

Carol complied, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

"If ya wanna wear it, I'm... I'm gonna fix it." He said, fumbling to put it back in his pocket.

As he did, she noticed that the ring made a small noise against something else in his pocket. Against something else.

"Daryl," She began, taking a hesitant step toward him. It was a crazy thought, she realized, but just for that moment... There was something she had to know.

"Yeah?" He said, looking away as she got closer.

"Did you... did you get a ring for yourself, too?" Carol asked, her voice trembling. Long gone was the point of flirtation, of the lightness the conversation could have had, and she cursed herself for it. He probably wouldn't answer a question like that, not while she was pressuring him.

But he surprised her again.

"Yeah." He said it so quietly, she almost didn't believe the words had been spoken.

"Daryl, look at me." She pleaded, her own voice barely above a whisper.

He did, gingerly.

This time, she aimed for his lips. Again, one of her hands curled into his shirt, while the other rested on Daryl's cheek as she touched her lips to his.

"I'm all yours." She said, somewhat shyly. "Take that however you want."

He huffed. "Think ya know how I'm gonna take it."

They couldn't help but laugh, trying to stifle it so that it didn't echo around the empty room, but to no avail.

A day later, Glenn noted that Carol was wearing something around her neck. A thin leather strap held an immaculate, white-gold ring that flashed against her pale skin in the light. Everyone noticed.

Merle even noticed the ring that Daryl had slipped onto the middle finger of his left hand - the ring had been too big for him too, though an easier fit. He was about to say something about it, when he noticed the matching one dangling in front of him as Carol passed him a plate of food.

That shut him up real good.

Carol, the little mouse of the camp, the wife of that backwoodsy bastard Ed, was now with his little brother.

"'nother man's trash, eh little brotha?" He said knowingly to Daryl later that night as the group made their way to their cells.

Daryl turned, looking at him, and then up at the perch where he could see Carol moving in her cell.

"'nother man's treasure. Yeah."

 


	9. The Sound of Waves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This was a prompt by the lovely bullettimescully, who wanted a fic involving a beach, a bonfire, booze, and Caryl. I hope this is your cup of tea.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Walking Dead, in any part, including characters, places or concepts mentioned.

* * *

The Sound of Waves

 

About a week after the members of Woodbury had settled into the prison, Glenn and Maggie had come back from a run, excitedly whispering about a special find. While Rick had expected something along the lines of a new, dependable supply of food for the next while, Glenn held up two quarts of spiced rum with a giddy smile.

"We found a liquor store." Maggie said quietly. "And..." She leaned in a bit closer. "A beach."

Rick stared at them, incredulous for a moment. He was about to ask how that was going to help anyone when the look on Maggie's face told him that she wasn't done. "Well?" He asked after a moment.

"I know it's not an ideal time but-" She started, looking to Glenn for moral support. The Korean shrugged, his grin lingering as he took over for her. "Rick, we know this has been tough on all of us. We thought that maybe we could... you know, go have a night on the beach. Just to get out for a while."

Rick's eyebrows skyrocketed, and he put his hands on his hips. Fighting to keep his voice down, he leaned in. "Are you kidding? We've only been here a week. Now, these are good people, but this is our space." He looked around, making sure no one else could hear them. "And have you forgotten about the world out there? Since when do we just go out at night for fun?"

Glenn and Maggie didn't seem phased. "We didn't have any trouble gettin' back here, Rick. The coast is clear, and there wasn't a single walker on that beach. The sound of the water doesn't attract 'em, and it covers the sounds of talkin' too." Maggie argued gently.

Rick shook his head. "No."

"But," Glenn began.

"No. It's a completely unnecessary risk." The sheriff confirmed.

Glenn was about to say something else when Maggie stilled him with a hand on his shoulder. Sighing, the young man took a step back. Rick watched them both as they walked away, but what he didn't hear as they left the area was what Glenn whispered to his fiancee: "I know a couple people who might want to take their chances for a little fun."

 

...

 

The following night, a small group of people drove as slowly as they could out of the gate with the Tuscon, packed into the back seat like sardines. The Woodbury woman on guard duty had been tipped off with her own quart of vodka, and said nothing as she watched the car drive out of sight and past the few walkers that attempted to follow.

Maggie's hand turned the steering wheel deftly in the dark, knowing the route better than Glenn, who had already started in on his first bottle of rum.

"Are we sure this is a good idea?" Beth piped up from the back seat, her cheek pressed against the cool window. Squashed in next to her were Carol, Carl, Daryl, and Michonne - who had mostly come to make sure no one got killed. And to make sure someone stayed sober for the drive home.

Carl shrugged, his expression reading that of someone who didn't care either way - he wasn't planning on getting drunk, but he had practically jumped at the prospect of getting away from the prison for a little while. "If it's a bad idea, we'll find out pretty quick." Daryl said, knowing he didn't need to tell everyone that he was well armed in the event that something went wrong.

Carol, her thigh pressed tightly against his in the small backseat smiled despite herself. Daryl was right; in all honesty, she knew she wouldn't have agreed to go if the hunter hadn't first expressed his own interest in getting shitfaced on a beach.

And so, twenty minutes later, not a walker in sight, Maggie pulled the car to a stop in the soft sand now cooling down from the day's blaring sunshine.

A small bonfire was lit, after they had all very carefully decided that the fire was invisible from a certain angle behind the car, close to where the water was lapping up against the shore.

"Cheers, everybody." Glenn said with a genuine smile, earning a sincere answer from every single person who now sat around the fire, like old times, each holding their own portion of alcohol in the plastic cups Maggie had managed to loot from the store the day before.

"Cheers!" The reply echoed around, as the warm, spicy liquid cascaded down their throats like an elixir. It had been too long.

 

...

 

Two hours later, the tide had come in.

The fire was beginning to go out, and Maggie and Glenn had elected to take a walk along the shoreline together, stumbling but supporting one another in their efforts. Carl and Beth had gone in the other direction, Michonne carefully tailing them at Maggie's request.

The embers that glowed in the fire cast a warm light on Carol's face as she watched them, seeing the water level rising out of the corner of her eye as it splashed playfully close to them.

Daryl was wasted.

She had seen it happen once or twice before on the farm when they had ready access to Hershall's liquor cabinet. Normally, drunk men scared her. Even then, it had set her a little on edge. But as she turned her eyes from the dying fire to the man laying next to her, she smiled. He looked almost at peace, which was a welcome change from the gruff, brooding expression he had taken on since putting down his brother.

"Penny for your thoughts." She said quietly, breaking the comfortable silence between friends.

Daryl opened an eye and looked at her curiously. "'the fuck 'm I gonna use a penny for?" He almost chuckled.

Carol did chuckle, noting that he was definitely shit-faced. If the slur weren't enough, the fact that he then rolled onto his side to look at her square-on told her that he wasn't feeling his normal awkwardness with proximity. Granted, they were still a few feet apart, but Carol scooted a little closer to him, bolstered by the alcohol.

"Shut up. Play along." She said, smirking.

His eyes fell on her lips for a second. Then two, before he looked back up at her eyes shyly. "Or what?" He asked.

Carol laughed, leaning back on her hands and stretching her legs out in front of her. "Want me to tell you what I was thinkin' first?" She offered.

"Sure." He grunted, noticing that she looked younger in the dim firelight, and that the way her wispy hair picked up the calm Georgian wind made the whole scene look like it came out of a movie. She was pretty, Carol, and it hadn't taken him long to notice. Not like Lori, or Maggie or Beth, but in a way all her own.

He realized that he liked it better.

Carol looked down at him, a gentle smile on her lips before replying: "I was thinkin' about how much we all needed this." She sighed, her eyes settling on the lapping of the waves against the soft sand. "A little time away from it all, y'know?"

"The booze was nice." Daryl said, chuckling and pulling himself closer to Carol instinctively.

She laughed. "Yeah." The sound made Daryl's head hum. How long had it been since he heard her laugh? And she smiled more than anyone he knew. Even when he was pissed, and foul, she always managed to smile at him and make it seem a little better. When she laughed, he felt like laughing too.

"And the beach, well!" She exclaimed, looking to him with a mischievous lilt to her smile. "This is just plain romantic."

Daryl caught the reference immediately, and his blue eyes snapped up to hers. His lips dropped open as he tried to think of a retort - he knew she was teasing him. It was something she did, only when they were alone, and that hadn't happened at all as of late.

Instead of brushing it off as he normally did, he pursed his lips and challenged her. "Ain't I heard you say that before?" He asked casually, but she caught the mischief in his own voice. Daryl Dixon surprised her at every turn, for the line she walked with him had been delicate of late.

Merle's death had taken a toll on him, and he had only seemed angry and withdrawn in the group for the last week, but for the few short interactions they had had. Carol felt lucky to be part of what seemed like a growing, budding relationship with the man. However, it drove her to frustration when she thought of what they  _could_  be, if she only made the first move. And he didn't run away.

Something in the way he looked at her then, the challenge in his eyes, the slight quirk of his lips, made her accept the amount of alcohol in her system and she replied: "D'you remember what came next?"

She didn't know what he would do. It was a bold move, and the way she said it... Daryl could be left in no doubt of what she was insinuating. The immediate look of panic on his face gave her an answer, and she immediately regretted it. _That was too much_ , she thought.

Then, he answered.

"Somethin' about screwin' around, I thought." His voice was shaky, but he looked her square in the eye as he said it.

Carol inhaled sharply, not realizing that the two of them had somehow become a mere foot away from one another, less now that she was leaning down ever so slightly to look at him.

"I don't like to repeat myself much, but..." She said slowly, quietly, as though afraid to ruin the moment.

"Yeah..." Daryl didn't even get the word out before Carol's lips came down on his, cutting off his air supply before he realized he could breathe out of his nose. Even through the haze of his intoxication, he could feel the shape of her lips pressing against him, warm, soft, delicious.

Carol pulled back slightly after a moment, unsure of what to make of his unresponsiveness.

"What?" Daryl asked, and the silver-haired woman smiled at the insecurity in his voice. She knew, and she understood. She answered with another kiss, this time a little more firm, less innocent.

He answered in like, despite the thundering of his heart against his ribs. "I... I dunno' what I'm doing." He confessed after their next break for air.

Carol brushed a strand of his hair tenderly away from his eyes, and rested her palm on his cheek. "It's okay..." She said, hovering her lips over his mouth. "Just... take your time."

Their kisses continued, gentle and conservative, testing and teasing as Carol eventually took a chance and nibbled on his bottom lip. Daryl hissed, a hand reaching out across her, pulling blindly at the fabric of her shirt until he had her laying against him. His arms around her, Carol felt like melting into the cool water that now lapped at their toes.

Their breathing grew heavy, the smell of rum on their breaths disappearing in their own, individual smells. Carol wouldn't believe this had happened in the morning, her eyes unwilling to open for fear of already being asleep and dreaming.

She supported herself with one arm, the other hand burying itself in Daryl's hair, clutching desperately to keep him close.

The sound of the waves blocked out the sounds of Maggie and Glenn laughing and joking as they walked back toward that dying fire, and vaguely masked the bell-like sound of Beth singing a folk-song to Michonne, and Carl who had fallen asleep and was being piggy-backed along beside her.

The sound of the waves was all they could hear beyond their own labored breaths.

 


	10. Caught

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead in any part. All characters, concepts and ideas are property of AMC, Frank Darabont, Robert Kirkman and Tony Moore. 
> 
> Prompt: from heathensobsessions - Darol and Carol in an intimate moment, having to use their weapons in the meantime. Nowhere near the prison, but not AU.
> 
> [Original posting in 2012] - It's not as action-packed as I wanted, and as it turns out I'm not great at writing pre-established Caryl relations... I feel like I will forever write firsts.

* * *

Caught

 

A walker's body slumped down against the wall as an arrow pierced its skull.

Daryl pushed Carol in front of him, into the small store room before he grabbed his arrow and went in after her, pulling the door closed just as another walker stumbled toward them.

It had been a simple plan - the old convenience store just off the highway still had a few provisions to offer, and after practically begging to get out of the prison for a while, Daryl had agreed to take Carol on the run. Glenn had insisted he come with them, and while Daryl knew that the Korean was safe, he figured that he would have realized that something was amiss by now. What the younger Dixon brother wondered was  _why the Hell did things like this always happen?_

The store itself only had a few walkers in it, nothing that couldn't be taken care of quickly and efficiently; Carol had taken down three herself, and he had watched with no small amount of pride as she slashed their heads clean off with a cruel-looking machete. She turned to smile at him, saying she was going to check out the store room, and he followed wordlessly, nodding to Glenn before they went.

And no sooner had they turned the corner into that narrow hallway, did Carol push him roughly up against the wall and press her lips into his like there was no tomorrow.

Hell, there may not have been a tomorrow - Daryl thought for a moment he had died.

But the feeling of her dry lips against his was too shocking to be an after-death experience.

Carol told herself it was now or never, adrenaline coursing through her veins like an elixir. The moment they were out of Glenn's slight she took her chance, immediately melting into him as she realized their chaste kiss felt even better than she had imagined it would.

She pulled away slowly, watching him.

Daryl was at a loss, his blue eyes cloudy and darting from her own, then down to her lips. Her lips.

Carol smirked and her kiss was upon him again, softer and yet more charged, as though she were trying to convey something. Daryl didn't know what, but he felt a difference in the way she pressed up against him, the cool of the wall on his back in contrast to the spreading warmth of her body on his. Her machete was still in hand, so she used her free hand to grasp at the collar of his shirt.

The hunter was just beginning to regain some sense of control over his limbs, reaching up with a hand to rest on her hip when a door opened suddenly, five walkers spilling out at them, barely giving them time to react.

Carol's eyes widened in panic as she backed off, but Daryl instinctively wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her flush against him - just as he reached past her and put an arrow through one of the corpses.

"Go!" He growled, pushing her roughly toward the door just as another walker clambered over its fallen comrade.

The storeroom was small, but blissfully filled with all sorts of untouched provisions - from food to diapers, they were set. For a little while at least.

Carol noticed dimly that though the room was free of walkers, the coat rack hanging on the door next to them still had a couple jackets and sweaters left there.

Despite the nagging fear that still clung to her, the moment she turned around to see Daryl, the fear seemed to abate at the sight of his cold blue eyes on hers, and the heavy rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

Carol cursed herself for being so forward, especially at a time like this. Still, once the door had been firmly shut behind them she stepped toward him again and rose a hand to rest on his cheek. She knew Daryl Dixon, and she knew him well enough to know that if he didn't want her kissing him, he'd shove her off and skitter away as awkwardly as he could.

He was awkward to be sure, but the hesitant warmth of his hand against her hip as she pushed up on her toes to kiss him once more told her that she was on the right track.

Their time was limited. It always had been, but in the supply room of a convenience store, with walkers clawing at the metal door behind them, Carol felt more alive and brave than she had in a long while. Daryl seemed to know it too, as he finally became an active participant in their kiss, as he turned her so that she was the one with her back pressed up against the door, and blocked from moving by his torso.

His breathing was ragged as he leaned over her, a shaky breath escaping him, hot against her lips and neck. She felt lightheaded, her knees going slightly weak as she made note of every curve and angle on his body, from the impossibly tender caresses of his calloused hands to the increasing firmness she felt against her leg.

Suddenly, the scraping at the door stopped and was replaced by the intelligent hammering of a fist. "Daryl! Carol!" Glenn yelled as he pushed aside two fallen bodies. "You guys okay in there?"

Carol involuntarily dug her fingers into the door as Daryl pushed his hips into her. "Y-yeah!" She called, giving Daryl a sharp look as he stared at her intently. Whether or not he had done it on purpose, Carol knew that the last thing she wanted to do was leave that stock room. Still, it was probably best - for her sanity, if not anything else, if they got on with the run.

"Jus' grabbin' some stuff, Glenn." Daryl called out, huskier than intended. The woman sandwiched between him and the door sighed. "Be right out!" She called out.

Carol then tried to squirm out from under Daryl - the door wasn't locked, and she couldn't count on Glenn not to want to help them 'grab supplies'.

The hunter had something different in mind, however. He pulled a small knife from his pocket, and before Carol could get too far, he threaded the tip of the knife through the belt loop in her worn jeans, and into the crack in the door behind her.

She looked up at him wordlessly, amused and aroused, but more than that she was impressed with the forwardness that he had seemed to develop. Carol could have moved if she really wanted to, the knife was wedged in the hinge of the door but the handle could have been slipped out of her pants if she tried. Looking up at Daryl, one eyebrow quirked and her lips set in a mischievous smile, he shook his head with a small motion. He didn't want her to move.

And neither did she.

 


End file.
